Saying Goodbye
by northernexposure
Summary: Post-Endgame, the crew of Voyager have their own homecoming ball. (This is a re-post from 2014.)
**Saying Goodbye**

 **A/N:** MissyHissy3 emailed me the other day with a 'special request' to please re-post this story once I had finished 'Things Fall Apart'. So here it is. This was originally posted in March 2014. Re-posting gave me the chance to fix a few lines that had always niggled at me.

 **Original summary:** "Post Endgame angst, fluff and nonsense. J/C, obviously."

* * *

 _If I dream of you these days_

 _I know my dreams are mine and not of you_

 _yet something hangs between us_

 _older and stranger than ourselves_

* * *

The twilight hung too briefly in the air, tinted a pale shade of indigo as the evening slid inexorably towards the full darkness of night. If Kathryn Janeway were able to have her way, she would have stopped its progress there and then, at that very point, with this vivid, impossible colour hanging in the sky – so beautiful – and the air so fragrant with the scent of the flowers closing around her. But the moment passed by just as every other had before it, entering the tapestry of memory that spread invisibly behind her. This was inevitable, she knew, as surely as she knew that these first days of being back on Earth would stay with her, vividly, for the rest of her life, despite the fact that they seemed to be slipping by so quickly. _Too quickly,_ she thought. _Too much change, too fast._ How could it be that those monumental seven years of her life and everything that had happened within them would soon simply be part of her past? Gone, behind her. Nothing more than memory.

She had spent every moment of those seven years yearning to be back here. Yet now that she was… She had never been afraid of change. Change was inevitable, and inevitably exciting for a woman in whose chest beat the heart of an explorer. _And yet…_

Janeway was standing on a wide balcony, looking out at the distant cityscape of San Francisco where it lay across the bay in a jangle of lights and right angles. She held a glass of champagne in one hand and her other was resting on the balustrade in front of her. Beneath her fingers the white marble was still faintly warm from the strong sun that had dropped below the horizon less than half an hour before. Over the faint sounds of the party going on beyond the walls and windows behind her she could hear the rush and roll of the surf below – the hotel was new, built above the shores of Sausalito. It was an opulent, expensive, ostentatious establishment, which was the only explanation for her attire.

Outfit-wise, Kathryn Janeway only ever did 'opulent' and 'ostentatious' on the holodeck, but she could carry off 'expensive' with the best of them. At least, she'd always been able to in her pre- _Voyager_ days. And it wasn't as if Janeway could turn up to this particular gathering wearing her uniform, was it? So she'd bought something new. Something extraordinary, at least for her. The price had caused her eyebrows to rise almost to her hairline, but what the hell. _All those moments, sliding by…_ The dress was black silk, a scooped neckline hanging from spaghetti straps to a boned waist, opening again into a full skirt that fell to her toes. The back was equally simple, but more risqué than she'd attempted in a long time. Her back was bare almost to her tailbone, where then the black silk brushed once more against her skin.

If Janeway were honest, there was a tiny part of her that wanted to shock her old crew. No, shock was too strong a word. She'd wanted to surprise them, that's all. Remind them that what they'd seen out there every day was not necessarily all of her. Seven years she'd been cocooned in uniform. She was so rarely out of it that in the end it had been like a second skin, or a carapace – impenetrable, indelible. _Her._ On the rare occasions when she had shown up to social gatherings aboard _Voyager_ in civvies, it had always taken her forever to choose what to wear. She'd always felt, even then, that she had to be careful to make the right kind of statement. As Captain of _Voyager_ , there had been no such thing as 'off duty'. So she'd always gone for understated and simple, modest and unassuming. No dresses, no skirts, not outside the holodeck. Well, she'd relaxed that for New Earth, but they were special circumstances. She'd relaxed a lot of things for New Earth. Her good sense, for example.

 _More fool you, Captain._

She took a mouthful of champagne and swallowed hard. The black silk murmured as she moved her arm. She shut her eyes and breathed in, filling her lungs with the warm salt air of Earth. The faint breeze whispered over her arms and down the bare expanse of her back. It toyed with her hair, which she'd pinned up against her head in an elegant style she hadn't tried for seven years.

A door opened and shut behind her, music spinning briefly into the air and then dying again. Footsteps echoed in her direction.

"Captain?"

She turned and saw Tom Paris walking towards her, dressed in a tuxedo and carrying two more glasses of champagne.

"Tom. I think, just for tonight, I'd quite like it if everyone called me Kathryn. Do you think you could manage that?"

He raised an eyebrow and smiled. "Sure. After all, after tomorrow, it'll be Admiral for ever more, won't it?" He held out one of the glasses. "I thought you might want a top-up."

Janeway showed him the glass in her hand. "I'm still fine at the moment, thank you."

Tom put both glasses down and leaned against the balustrade. "Actually, the drink was a bit of a ruse. B'Elanna sent me out here to find out if you were OK."

Kathryn smiled and leaned beside him. "That's sweet. I'm all right."

"It's just that you're out here, rather than inside, C- Kathryn. We wondered why."

Janeway looked out over the bay. "Just… taking it all in, I guess. We're home. Can you believe that? We're actually home."

"Of course I believe it," Paris said, softly. "You said we'd get here. So we did."

She blinked, her eyes suddenly full. "I can't thank you enough for your service over these past seven years, Tom."

He reached out and covered her hand with his. "I'm the one who needs to thank you. Without you turning up that day – without you talking me into coming with you… You gave me a new path, Kathryn. New possibilities. You gave me a family, and you "gave me B'Elanna and Miral. Don't think that I won't thank you for that every day of the rest of my life. And don't think that I don't know what you sacrificed for us out there, every day. I do. We all do."

There was nothing Kathryn could say in the wake of such kind words. And yet, they were words of parting, words of goodbye. On this cusp on which they all stood this night, they were all aware that tomorrow would be different. Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow, they would go their separate ways. She wasn't sure she could bear to think about it.

"Please come back to the party, Kathryn," Tom said. "It's not right without you there. Besides," he added, a hint of his old cheek slipping into his words, "I want to see Harry hyperventilate when you walk in again. I literally had to scoop his jaw off the floor the first time."

"Oh, don't be ridiculous," Kathryn laughed, taking the arm he offered her as they walked towards the door.

"It's not ridiculous at all, and he wasn't the only one," said Tom, teasing gently. "In fact, if I wasn't a married man…"

Kathryn laughed again, though it ended on a sigh. "Ah, empty promises, Tom. I can do without those, thank you." She drew to a stop as they reached the door, hesitating. She didn't want to go in. For a moment, she wanted to pretend that this night hadn't come. That they weren't on Earth at all, but some pretty alien planet in the Delta Quadrant, that _Voyager_ was in orbit somewhere, and that tomorrow morning they'd be back aboard her on their way home, although actually they were already there and perhaps she was the only one who had never realised it until now.

Tom turned to face her, and she saw the look of concern on his face. "Sorry," she said. "It's just – this is goodbye, isn't it? What we're doing here tonight. We might not have realised it when we said we'd have our own homecoming party, but that's what it is. We're all saying goodbye, and I'm not sure I-"

"They're not together any more, you know."

"Sorry?"

"Chakotay and Seven."

She was completely floored. "I don't-"

"They'd hardly even started seeing each other anyway. Rumour says she ended it, but I think even if she hadn't, he would have."

Kathryn pulled her arm out of Tom's and stepped away, suddenly fractious. "Why are you telling me this, Lieutenant?"

Tom smiled. "Because like I said, Harry's jaw wasn't the only one on the floor when you walked in earlier."

She raised a hand to her temple, embarrassed, "Tom, this isn't an appropriate conversation."

"Tomorrow it wouldn't be. Not when you're Admiral Janeway. Not when we all get our new assignments. But tonight – this is about us, Kathryn. All of us, and only us. This is about us being together as a family, for what might be the last time ever. Tonight is when we just get to be ourselves, with each other. Not Starfleet, not Maquis. Not a crew preoccupied with the struggle to get home. Not Captain, not Commander, not Lieutenant. It's when you get to walk into a room wearing exactly what you want to for the first time in seven years. It's when Chakotay finally gets to look at you the way-"

"Tom, stop." She put her hands up to her cheeks.

The younger man let the silence float between them for a moment. Kathryn couldn't look at him.

"You put everyone else first for the best part of a decade," he added, quietly. "And I know what that cost you. I know what it cost him."

She shook her head. "Too much water under the bridge, Tom."

"I've never seen you afraid of anything."

"I'm not afraid. I'm realistic. Maybe once… But no, not now. It's too late."

"Just have a drink with him. Just… talk. Have you two ever actually done that?"

Kathryn looked up at him with a wry smile. "Tom, for seven years he was really the only person I _could_ talk to. Talking was never a problem. Well, not until…" She trailed off and shook her head.

"I bet one or both of you were always in uniform though, right? Bet those pips were always right there, on your collars."

 _Except on New Earth,_ she thought. Which was why they always were after that, back on _Voyager_.

Tom took her silence as some kind of answer and pulled open the door, holding his arm out to her again. She smiled, and took it. Together they walked into a room buzzing with life and laughter. Some of the crew were dancing. Others were sitting at tables, chatting. Tom steered her towards the bar. It wasn't until they got closer that she realised Chakotay was leaning against it, watching the dancers with a faint smile. Kathryn tried to stop Tom's progress, but it was too late. Chakotay had already seen them and was straightening up as they approached.

"Kathryn seems to be without a drink, Chakotay," Tom said.

"Kathryn?" Chakotay raised an eyebrow at the familiarity.

"It's just for tonight," Janeway said, turning her head away to watch the dancers. "I thought a night without rank would be appropriate."

"As we say goodbye?" Chakotay asked, quietly.

Kathryn looked back at him quickly and realised that Tom had slipped away. "Yes."

Chakotay stared at her for a second and then turned back to the bar to take two full glasses of champagne from the line that had already been poured. He handed one to her and raised his in salute. "To _Voyager_."

She smiled. "To _Voyager_."

"You'd really do it, wouldn't you?"

"Do what?" she asked.

"Say goodbye. Walk away. Just like that."

Kathryn saw that there was something angry in his eyes. She'd seen him angry before, many times – with her, even. But this… this stirred something in her. She took a mouthful of champagne and swallowed before speaking. "I'm sure we'll all try to stay in touch. How could we do otherwise, after what we shared aboard that ship?"

He looked down at his glass. "You are unbelievable."

She frowned. The tension was escalating rapidly. It was unexpected and confusing. "Are you picking a fight with me, Chakotay? Tonight, of all nights?"

He laughed, softly. "When else will I get the chance?"

"You've had seven years of chances."

Chakotay looked at her sharply. "No, I haven't. You think there weren't times I was biting my tongue? There were. More times than you'd care to know."

She drew in a breath. "You know I valued your honesty."

"Except that you never let me be honest, Kathryn. Not truly. If I had been –" He stopped himself.

"Well," she said quietly. Her stomach was twisting painfully. "I guess you're right, and this is your last chance. So come on, Chakotay. Have at it. Tell me what you've really been thinking all these years."

He looked down at her, and with a jolt she realised just how close they were standing. Close, with nothing between them but his restrained fury. She guessed that was how you waged an all-out war in silence. You stood close and raged so that no one but yourselves could see. They were good at it. They'd been doing it for seven years.

"You are the most infuriating woman I've ever met," he said.

"Okay," she said. "Well, to be honest, I was expecting something a little harsher, so-"

"And you would not believe," he whispered hoarsely, so close, so close, "how desperately I want to run my hands down your back right now. You are _so_ beautiful."

She opened her mouth, but no sound was forthcoming. Chakotay turned away and tipped his glass up to his lips, drinking deeply.

"Seven years of holding back, Kathryn. Seven years of not saying what I really mean," he said. "And you would just say goodbye and walk away? From me?"

She swallowed, and then cleared her throat. "I wasn't aware there was still an alternative."

"There is."

"Okay, then." She frowned, and found her eyes level with his chest. It was a familiar sensation, but it didn't help anchor her in this moment, which had suddenly set her adrift with a heart pounding so painfully she thought it might split it two. "I don't… What…"

"Have dinner with me."

"When?"

"Tomorrow night."

"By then I'll be…"

"An Admiral. Yes. But," he leaned forward, looking at her closely, "to me, from now on, you'll always be Kathryn first. Not one more minute of anything else. Or believe me, I'll be the one walking away. Seven years – it's enough."

She smiled. It was wide, wild, unbidden and unharnessed, and she couldn't remember the last time she'd smiled like that. She saw his eyes dilate and his breath catch, just for a moment. Chakotay reached out and slipped one arm around her waist, pulling her to him in a tight embrace that could have merely been a hug between friends if not for the fact that they both knew it wasn't. He laid his other hand warmly against the bare skin of her back. A moment later his fingers stroked her where they rested, moving almost imperceptibly, whispering along the filigree of her spine. It lasted only for a second and then he let her go. But the ghost of his touch tingled against her skin, and if they'd been alone… Oh, if they had been alone…

"Dinner," she said. "Tomorrow night. Let's see if we can start again."

He nodded, the fury in his eyes now a different kind of heat. "I'll drink to that."

[END]

 _Poem fragment extracted from 'From An Old House In America' by Adrienne Rich, collected in 'The Fact of a Doorframe'._


End file.
